


Death of a Bloodline

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: ? - Freeform, Amputation, Audience Interaction, Audience Participation, Blood, Gen, Monsters, Mystery, Torture, modern with magic, straw poll, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When there are less than one thousand left of your kind and the world thinks you're extinct, what do you do when someone or something is hunting you down? When you were the last to be bitten, but the first to be captured, what do you do then?well, you ask for help, and this story you, the audience, can help define the world and characters.





	1. Nightlife Welcome

The night is dark and dreary, the only life out on the wet streets are the few cars that pass by.  Most of the stores have long-since closed, and the large office builds above them are long emptied. The tall streetlamps and the traffic lights are the only light in the dark rainy night. Only one store is open in along the large block, its neon sign above the door reads ‘Chan’s Convenience and Herbal Supply- open 24 hours’. Along with the ads for cigarettes and beer, on the door, there is a piece of white printer paper with sharpie writing saying ‘nightlife welcome’ in messy handwriting.

The bell above the door chime, as a man pushes inside. The sound of the chime slightly louder than the rain outside and the radio softly playing music inside.  The small convince store hums with the sounds of the fluorescent lights and the many refrigerators. It is mostly a small market, but behind the counter, there are large jars of dried herbs, spices, and dried animal parts for sale as well. The small Chinese woman sitting behind the counter glances up from her reading as the man enters.

The man is built like most others, average size, and weight. Any other day you might say he is handsome, with a square jaw and a well-defined brow. Though today this man looks more like a beast then someone you would call attractive. The skin along the left side of his face his neck is gray and cracked like a dry riverbed. His dark eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath them. The jeans and light blue button-up shirt are two sizes too big for his frame, and the left sleeve lays limply without anything filling. He clutches his left shoulder tightly as he more staggers then walks towards the counter.

 The woman, Mrs. Chan if her nametag is correct, behind the counter stands when she sees the state of the man in front of her. Her expression is that of shock and horror, though she is not able to speak before he leans heavily on the counter. He does not look her as he talks, his tone is stilted and his voice hoarse “I’d like to buy a red-Moon-pie, but I owe four men money.”

“well” Mrs. Chan stars, her shock now subsiding some, though her tone is still shaky “how much money do you owe them?”

“more than I can afford” the man states. Mrs. Chan nods and takes out a small key from the cash register. She gives a gentle smile as she motions for the man to fallow her. She leads him to the back room. It is filled from floor to ceiling with wooden and cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes.

The two people walk up to one of the largest wooden crates. Mrs. Chan slides one of the smaller panels to reveal a padlock which she quickly opens. After she unlocks the lock the front of the crate swings open like a large door. Mrs. Chan ushers the man inside with a wave of her hand. He has to duck to fit, but he goes in without complaint. Mrs. Chan hands him the key to the padlock and gives him a firm nod before closing the large crate door behind him.

“thank you,” the man says barely above a whisper as the door swings shut, and the panel slides closed.

The man takes a moment to lock the padlock before turning around and looking at his temporary home. Overall- It is cold and damp. It smells of must, and the air is heavy with moisture. It is nearly pitchback in the claustrophobic room, but his eyes adjust quickly enough. There isn’t much in the space, and he could easily touch opposite walls had both of his arms. The only adorning the area a small mattress with a couple of blankets and musty-looking pillows. The only light source is the small amount filtering in between the slats of the crate, but it is enough to see the little cardboard box in the corner of the room.

The man takes a deep breath and grabs the box before sitting on the bed. It’s just an old shoe box, but it does the trick. The box holds are four old cellphones, along with the appropriate power cords. It’s a tangled mess on the inside, but it really doesn’t matter that much at this point because the man has not been happier to see a tangled chord in his life.

All four phones have simple designs painted on the back on them in the same plane white paint. There is a Nokia with the Virgo constellation painted on it. There is a hot-pink flip phone with what is supposed to be a crescent moon on the back, which actually looks more like a smudge of paint then anything else. The blackberry has a geometrical sun painted on to it; its design is a little crisper than the others. Then there is an old first-gen iPhone with a raven painted on it, the screen is more cracked than anything else, but it will most likely still work.

The man just looks at the phones for a moment, trying to fight back the lump in his throat. He has not felt this hopeful in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog to possibly get a charicter named after you](https://degusart.tumblr.com/post/179908503832/death-of-a-bloodline)


	2. A Simple Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's hard to understand the person on the line when other people are talking at you.

The man sucks a breath in through his teeth and lets it out after a moment. He picks up the hot-pink phone. Looking at the blob of paint that is supposed to look like a moon fills him with an indescribable emotion, something between hope, joy, and dread. He flips open, and though It takes a moment for it to power on and the battery is low, the phone does start up. He pulls out the cord out of the tangled mess of a box and plugs the phone in, not wanting it to die while he is using it.

As quickly as he can the man clicks over to the saved numbers and finds there is only one is there.  No name, just the number lit up on the screen. He clicks the call button, trying to fight the tears in his eyes.

One, two, three, rings then the shuffling on the other side as someone picks up the phone. It’s a woman who picks up, her voice rough and rounded, like that of sand on a beach. She has a slight French accent, where she grew up, but has not been back to in a very long time.   

“Hello?” A voice says, her tone slightly harsh, but not unkind.  The man has to choke back a sob when he hears her voice. He does not know what to say, or where to start. Would they be angry with him? Are they still looking for him? Did they even look for him?

“Hello?” She asks again, breaking the man out of his spiraling thoughts “who is this?”

“Katherine?” His voice shakes into the headset. He takes another breath and says “this, this is Mathew.”

There is a pause on the other end when Katherine speaks her words are careful, but urgent at the same time “how- are you okay, where are you?”

“I'm in a safe house? Uhm I don’t know what town. The shop is called Chan’s Convenience. I think?”

“Okay, give me a sec’” Katherine says. There is a bit a of a pause before she speaks again “it’s a bit of a drive, but I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“okay I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere” Mathew chuckles. “and please, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t” her answer is short and straightforward, but it it is one of the greatest things Mathew has herd in all of his life.

There is a moment of quiet as Mathew listens to Katherine speak to someone else, but he cannot quite make out the conversation.  He hears to her move about and get ready to leave. He hears her car rumble to life, and the tension of both of them not quite sure what to say.

“are- are you okay?” Katherine asks, breaking the silence “we thought. Well, some people thought that you ran away.”

Mathew laughs slightly “I’m alive, or well, you know.”

“yes” Katherine chuckles “you will need to explain yourself when you come home, there are people here that weren’t exactly happy you went missing. Some people won’t be too happy you're back.”

“I didn’t leave, well I was intending on coming back, I-“ Mathew sighs, he does not know the right words. He wants to tell her what happened, but he does not know how to. He rubs his eyes and says “I don’t want to scare you when you get here, but I’m not okay. I’m really not okay.”

Mathew, hears Katherine start to speak, to ask questions, though that is not what he listens to. What he hears is the door chime. The single melodic bell and serval sets of boots thumping on the concrete floor. Mathew sets the phone face-down, so the light dies from the tiny room, leaving it nearly pitch-black.

The voices are muffled, and it is hard to tell what any of them are saying. But Mathew makes out a few words “were looking for a very dangerous man. He is severely deformed, and escaped from the hospital.”

Mrs. Chan replies in Chinese. Mathew does not understand her, but her tone gets the ‘fuck off’ point across. The mail voice argues with Mrs. Chan some more, him speaking English and her only speaking Chinese. There is a crash and the sound of a door slamming open.

 If he were anyone else, Mathew’s heart would be pounding out of his chest.   Mathew cannot see what is happening outside of the crate. Though he can hear their muddy boots thudding against the ground, and their fingers sliding along the outside of the box. Their stale breath filtering in through the slats of the wood. 

Mathew covers his mouth with his hand and does not move a muscle.  He waits and watches the front panel, where the door is, as he listens to someone walking around the room. He watches the shadows through the slats in the wood as they inspect the room.

“you got anything” a voice calls from the store

“just the usual shit,” someone returns “what about you?”

“the hag doesn’t speak any English, an’ I don’t think she knows anything.”

The second voice huffs and the heads head out of the room.  Mathew waits for what feels like an eternity, to make sure that the thugs are gone before picking up the phone. He sees that Kathrine is still on the other end.

“Hello?” Mathew says, barely above a whisper. His voice is still shaky

“where were you?” Kathrine asks sharply

“there was someone at the store, they’re gone now.”

There is a long sigh on the other side “okay, are you alright?”

“yes, I think so.”

“so do you want to tell me what the hell is going on now.” Kathrine asks exasperatedly “or are you going to keep me on the edge of my seat?”

Mathew sighs and tries to get his mind to stop racing, to find the right words. He lets his mind drift for a moment, to maybe calm down some. He makes his mind go to a different time and place. To a time when it was easier but more difficult, to a place where he was the happiest he had ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ reblog this chapter and maybe get a character named after you!](https://degusart.tumblr.com/post/180189548147/death-of-a-bloodline)   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> super experimental work. if you would like to engage more or influence the story more directly, maybe give it a reblog at my Tumblr. If you reblog it and add your name to the comments or tags you could get a character named after you! or comment on with your name and get the same chance!  
> Straw Polls close 48 hours after posting a chapter, though you are still invited to go and look at them. Updates Thursdays (if I have time to work on it college student and all that)


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